PART 9
Chapter 9
The past only tried to reach out to us one more time.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in late November. Lily was in the backyard throwing a tennis ball for Buster, her laughter ringing out through the crisp autumn air. I walked down the driveway to check the mail.
Between a water bill and a flyer for a local pizza place, there was a thick, manila envelope.
The moment I saw the return address, my blood went cold.
It was stamped from the federal women’s correctional facility three states away. The handwriting on the front was unmistakable. Looping, precise, and demanding. Sarah’s handwriting.
I stood frozen at the end of the driveway, the wind biting at my jacket. The envelope felt unnaturally heavy in my hands.
My mind raced. What could possibly be inside? A twenty-page apology? Excuses blaming Brad for everything? Pleas for forgiveness? Or worse, a request to see Lily? A demand for a photo?
I walked slowly up the driveway, staring at the sealed flap. A year ago, I might have ripped it open, fueled by a desperate need to understand why. Why she did it. How a mother could trade her child’s safety and her husband's life for a bank transfer.
But as I walked through the side gate into the backyard, I stopped.
I looked at the scene unfolding on the grass. Lily was running in circles, her cheeks flushed with joy, while Buster playfully bounded after her, occasionally letting out a soft, echoing bark. The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the lawn.
It was a perfect, untainted picture of peace.
If I opened that envelope, I would be inviting Sarah’s poison back into this sanctuary. I would be letting her words, her manipulation, and her excuses occupy space in my head. And if she occupied space in my head, it would bleed into my time with Lily.
Sarah had made her choice the night she locked that door and turned on the shredder.
I walked over to the stone fire pit in the corner of the yard. We had used it a few nights ago to roast marshmallows, and the ashes were still dry. I tossed the unopened envelope into the center of the pit.
I pulled a steel Zippo lighter from my pocket, flipped it open, and struck the flint. The small flame danced in the wind.
I held the flame to the corner of the manila envelope until it caught. I stepped back and watched as the fire chewed through the paper, the heat turning Sarah’s handwriting into black, curling ash.
"Daddy! Watch this!" Lily yelled from across the yard.
She threw the tennis ball as hard as she could. Buster leaped into the air, catching it flawlessly before landing softly on his paws.
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"Great catch, buddy!" I called back, turning my back on the fire pit.
I didn't look back until the envelope was nothing but gray dust, scattered by the wind into nothingness. The past was burned. Only the future remained.
